Aftab Malik’s response: Ignoring grassroots concerns

Aftab Malik’s lengthy 3,600+-word response to my AMUST article is, if nothing else, a masterclass in deflection.

Rather than directly addressing the key concerns I raised about his role as the Special Envoy to Combat Islamophobia—his past involvement in countering violent extremism (CVE) initiatives, his lack of grassroots engagement, and the broader concerns about how Islamophobia is addressed in Australia—he chose instead to frame my critique as aggressive, tone-police my concerns, and even invoke Islamic references to “school” me.

Perhaps what comes as a surprise is that he was not only responding to my opinion piece, which mentioned him in only a few paragraphs but also included my social media commentary, where I use a different type of language and tone for different audiences. He weaponised it in his response to make me appear ‘aggressive’, while his reply was designed to appear calm and full of decorum.

This is a common tactic: When legitimate concerns are raised, shift the focus to the tone of the critique rather than its substance. By positioning himself as the reasonable, balanced voice and me as the emotional, irrational critic, Malik not only sidesteps accountability but also reinforces the very power dynamics that silence critical voices within the Muslim community.

At no point did Malik reach out to me—a Muslim community leader in my own right—yet he boasts of many community consultations he has undertaken with Muslim organisations and leaders since he was appointed the Special Envoy.

I am the President of a Muslim mental health organisation and an individual who has been immersed at the grassroots level and in leadership for over 30 years. He, by contrast, has been a public servant working in the government CVE space for over 10 years. Yet he expected me to attend a public forum—not by invitation from him—but rather, expecting me to simply show up and hear him out.

If the Special Envoy to Combat Islamophobia is unwilling to engage with Muslim leaders who raise concerns, what does that say about the nature of his appointment? His piece reads less like an attempt to engage in meaningful dialogue and more like an attempt to discredit and delegitimise my perspective—a perspective shared by grassroots Muslim community members. It appears that he is more engaged with an echo chamber of agreeable community voices and is selective about who he engages with—and, just as importantly, who he leaves out.

His response leans heavily on rhetorical flourishes rather than concrete explanations. For example, rather than addressing the concerns I raised about his history in CVE work—a framework that has long been criticised for disproportionately targeting Muslim communities—he instead paints the very act of questioning his role as an unfair attack. This is a glaring omission.

If his past involvement in CVE work does not impact his current role, why not address it directly? Why not explain how his approach has evolved or how he intends to ensure that his new position is not a continuation of old, failed frameworks? Instead, he sidesteps the issue entirely, hoping that dismissing it as a “conspiracy theory” will be enough to dissuade further scrutiny.

I am very much a grassroots leader, and I respect when peak Muslim organisations such as the Islamic Council of Victoria (ICV) release critical documents, such as their paper outlining how the CVE agenda has harmed our community (ICV Position Statement). Would Malik claim that ICV’s document is another type of ‘conspiracy theory’?

The framing of Malik’s response is particularly revealing. When Muslims challenge Islamophobia from external forces—government policies, media narratives, systemic discrimination—they are seen as engaging in necessary advocacy.

However, when a Muslim community leader critiques another Muslim in a position of power, suddenly the conversation shifts ‘respectability politics’. I am painted as confrontational, ungracious, and even conspiratorial for simply raising concerns about a government-appointed position that directly impacts our community.

No doubt, I am aware of my straightforward language and tone (that comes with being neurodivergent, and I make no apologies for that), but I must have hit a raw nerve for a well-paid Special Envoy to Combat Islamophobia to spend more time responding to me than all his opinion pieces put together since his appointment. He fails to realise how that reflects badly on him—not me. I volunteer my time within my community roles.

One of the more troubling aspects of Malik’s response is his use of Islamic references to subtly chastise me for my critique. This is not new. We have seen, time and time again, how Islamic concepts of adab (etiquette), husn al-dhann (assuming good intentions), and sabr (patience) are selectively invoked—not to hold those in power accountable but to silence those who dare to question them.

This is a classic example of spiritual gaslighting: framing legitimate political critique as a failure of character, as though the very act of questioning is an act of institutional fitnah (discord) rather than a necessary part of ensuring good governance and representation.

This tactic is not only intellectually dishonest but also plays into broader patterns of how power operates within the Muslim community. If Malik truly believes in the importance of Islamic ethics, he should apply them consistently, including the Prophetic tradition of listening to and engaging with those who raise concerns, rather than dismissing them as divisive.

One of the biggest gaps in Malik’s response is his failure to acknowledge the disconnect between institutional approaches to combating Islamophobia and the lived realities of grassroots Muslim communities.

Malik’s term as Islamophobia envoy has been marked by silence and inaction on critical issues. When Federal MP Dave Sharma dismissed Islamophobia as “fictitious,” Malik had a private conversation with him rather than publicly challenging the harmful rhetoric. When an Islamic school bus was firebombed—an attack that police confirmed was deliberate—Malik met with the Prime Minister, but that meeting was also kept private.

Meanwhile, the anti-Semitism envoy enjoys direct and visible support from the government, regularly meets with top officials, and even travelled overseas with Foreign Minister Penny Wong. In contrast, Malik’s appointment was handled quietly, without much media coverage and with little transparency about his access or influence. When journalists weren’t even invited to the Islamophobia envoy’s launch, what does that tell us about the government’s priorities?

A particularly concerning aspect of Malik’s public position is his deliberate distancing from the Palestinian cause. As reported in The Age, Malik has taken a neutral or non-committal stance on Palestine, despite the overwhelmingly pro-Palestinian sentiment among the Australian Muslim community. The fact that he has yet to publicly clarify if he is ‘pro-Palestinian’ since The Age article, is a damning indictment of his role.

We cannot ignore the fact that the fight against Islamophobia is directly linked to the struggle for Palestinian liberation. The same Islamophobic narratives that dehumanise Muslims in Australia are used to justify Israel’s oppression of Palestinians.

We can see it happening today in Government responses, university institutions, law enforcement, and the mainstream media, including ABC, if his role is to listen to the concerns of the Australian Muslim community, then how did he overlook the fact that both Islamophobia Register Australia and Alliance Against Islamophobia both adopted anti-Palestinian racism as part of their data collection?

His deliberate omission of anti-Palestine racism is his personal decision and not one that is reflective of the community he is supposed to represent. Malik’s refusal to convey the stance of our community effectively in place of his own to satisfy the politics he adopts renders him incapable of representing the views of our community, and it also makes him complicit in minimising this global injustice and oppression.

And I should not need to remind a scholar of Islam’s strong theological position on firmly standing with the oppressed.

Malik’s response to my article was, at best, a missed opportunity and, at worst, a deliberate attempt to silence valid critique. His refusal to take a clear stance on Islamophobia-related incidents, his lack of grassroots engagement, and his failure to advocate meaningfully for Palestinian justice all demonstrate that he is out of step with the community he claims (and it highly paid) to represent.

As a Muslim Palestinian, Malik’s neutral stance in the face of genocide is profoundly unsettling for me. I have never known a Muslim in Australia to take a neutral stance on Palestine. Thus, if he refuses to take a public ‘pro-Palestinian’ stance and remains silent on the systemic issues that fuel Islamophobia, then he is not fit to represent the views of Australian Muslims.

The complex area of Islamophobia and grassroots community representation was never part of his professional experience in Australia. How he got the role is still confusing, and those from within our community who convinced the Government he had the skills for this role should also be held to account for dis-serviving our community.

It appears that his name being put forward for appointment was not based on expertise in Islamophobia and/or community-based role of engagement, but on good ‘ole mate-ship amongst brothers.

Malik must either commit to genuine advocacy—it’s what we really need right now—or step aside. The community deserves better. And I will not be defensive or insecure about anyone disagreeing with me either.

Disagreements with my community-based views have been happening for over 30 years; we vary in opinions, but Malik is the first to write an extensively worded opinion piece filled with gaslighting. That’s not a good look.